


Malfoy Manor: The Change

by PinkSkyy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 12:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6194446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkSkyy/pseuds/PinkSkyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All his life, Draco has only known one home: Malfoy Manor. Now, it's time for change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Malfoy Manor: The Change

The sky was an inky black, dotted with bright stars, twinkling ever so often. There was just a sliver of the moon visible, hidden behind dark clouds. In the distance, an albino peacock streaked across the gardens in a white blur. Draco stood in the balcony of the sun room, overlooking the vast gardens that were a part of Malfoy Manor.

He was dressed immaculately. A black shirt made of the finest silks, accompanied by a velvet coat of the same colour and a silver tie that almost matched his hair in the dim moonlight. His sharp features and slate grey eyes were accentuated by his hair, now chin length, and slicked back in a neat hairdo.

_“Papa! Maman!” A little boy streaked across the gardens, in an attempt to chase a now thoroughly frightened peacock that was running for its life._

_“Young master, please! Come backs! Misty will be gettings punished if Misty is not clothing young master on times!” The house elf ran after the small blonde child who seemed to still have plenty of energy, with loud giggles heard throughout the garden._

_“Son.” A loud but firm voice stopped the young boy in his tracks, a sense of fear creeping over him as he turned around to face his father. The older man’s presence was daunting. It was great and powerful, as he stood in a crisp suit, with his broad shoulders squared. The young boy feared his father, but respected him at the same time. The man was never the loving sort, but he fulfilled his fatherly duties all the same. The child looked up at his father, the tiniest hint of admiration shining through the fear in his eyes, as he waited for a punishment to be meted out, both to him and the poor house elf._

Draco turned away from the gardens, making his way out of the sun room, the heels of his polished oxfords made a clicking sound with every step he took. The ancient stone flooring of the sun room gave way to a dark wood flooring, just past the old oak double doors with tarnished bronze handles that guarded the entrance of the drawing room. The deep purple of the walls, almost completely covered in magical portraits, gave the room a rather royal look.

But all Draco could see was blood. Thick, red blood flowing across the floors, splattered on the walls. All he could see was the horrors that had taken place here, the punishments and the deaths. His pace quickened as he hastened to escape the room of nightmares.

He let out a sigh of relief that he did not even know he was holding as he pushed past another set of double doors, leading him to a foyer with a large staircase. The steps went on for a bit before it split in two directions - one to the right wing, and the other to the left. Draco headed to the left, the part of the manor that had once been completely his.

_The boy stalked down the hall with a huff. He was completely frustrated at the results that he had just received via owl post. He had gotten perfect scores for almost every subject that he had taken, and yet, at the bottom right corner of the old parchment, it stated that he was ranked 2nd in the school. It didn’t take long for him to realise who had clinched the first spot, and that was what angered him even more._

_That muggle born girl had beat him - him, a pureblood wizard who had been immersed in magic and trained in its use since the day he was born. He was beaten by a mudblood. His scowl intensified as he hurried along the long corridor, in search for the large room right at the end. He walked past the many guest bedrooms that were only ever used once a year, when his mother felt it was time to throw another charity gala to maintain the goodwill of the Malfoy family within the wizarding community._

_He was almost at his bedroom when he passed his study. The room was slightly than his bedroom, which was about a quarter of the size of the Great Hall of Hogwarts (which seemed a small fraction, but the room was definitely larger than a regular bedroom). His study was a deep shade of emerald green, with hints of lighter shades accentuating certain points in the room. A large window at the end overlooked the massive gardens and the ceiling had been charmed to look like whatever he wanted it to be. But the eleven year old did not care for any of the grandeur that the room held, or even the trinkets lying around that he would often amuse himself with. His eyes were trained on the shiny, new Nimbus 2001 that was propped up against the dark wall, right next to his study table._

_He smirked, eyes gleaming dangerously, as he stalked out of the study room, deciding instead to go to his bedroom. His time spent in the other room was short. Throwing open a large white cabinet, he searched for his quidditch attire and without further hesitation, stripped out of his Hogwarts jumper and slacks. When he was done with the change of clothes, he strutted out of the baby blue room, grabbed the top end broomstick and ran down the hallway, making his way to yet another location in the large mansion._

Draco saw his room again. The baby blue had been replaced by a deeper shade of blue sometime during his fifth year at Hogwarts. His study, however, remained the same. And yet, he could not find peace in them. The unoccupied rooms in his wing reminded him of the guests that had inhabited the place in his seventh year. It was shrouded in darkness and unpleasant memories. The rooms looked fine from the outside, but Draco remembered the terrors within, and he shuddered.

He walked down the grand staircase again, and heading towards the entrance hall, and out the black wooden door that was the only entrance into the mansion itself. He walked out into the gardens, steering himself to the leftmost parts of the large grounds.

_He kicked off hard from the ground, jetting upwards in a burst of speed. He felt the wind in his hair as he darted across the designated quidditch area of the gardens. The area was of decent size, but by no means as large as an actual quidditch pitch. The full sized pitch was behind the manor, and only ever used if he could find enough people to play with him._

_But he appreciated the garden space nonetheless. He slowed slightly as he started to do laps, flying from one end of the area to the other. His silky, blonde hair could barely be seen in the sunlight as he came to a slow stop mid-air. Yet again, he had been bested by another student. He had been in possession of the best broom in the school, and was the reason that the Slytherin team was too, but now, that famous boy had somehow found himself as an owner of a Firebolt. He sneered again, cursing at the other boy’s luck. He flew down gently and practically rolled off his broom and onto the grass. He stayed lying down on the soft greens, casually searching for the albino peacock that roamed the grounds._

_He turned his attention away and stared up at the sky, relishing the peace of the Manor grounds, loving everything about the home he had come back to._

The gardens was probably the only place in the Manor that he was least affected by. Still, Draco sometimes saw the glimmer of a giant serpent, slithering its way through the grass. His sharp, grey eyes darted across the grounds, scanning, checking the grass for unexpected inhabitants - it had become almost instinctual. He jumped a little, before reassuring himself that there was nothing there.

_Empty._

That was what the Manor now was. His parents had left the country, seeking refuge in one of their older properties in France. Draco didn’t follow them; he couldn’t leave the country he had grown up in so easily, not when he had just gotten the chance to rebuild his life.

Draco stepped outside the wrought iron gates of his ancient family home, his fur-lined robe swaying gently in the strong breeze. The land that was once a gift from an old King of England, that had expanded through the years, was no longer to belong to the family. No, the house had seen far too much dark magic and bloodshed. Draco didn’t want future generations of Malfoys to live in a house with such a dark aura.

His childhood home no longer acted as a refuge to him - they plagued him with nightmares that had come to life - and he doubted it would remain a sanctuary to his children and theirs after that. He did not wish to start a family in a house that had seen innocent blood spilt for no reason, in a house that had seen more deaths than it ever should.

More importantly, Draco did not want the Malfoy name to be tied to the rumours that had surrounded it for centuries. He wanted change, and he knew it would take awhile. The wizarding world was barely beginning to forgive all those who stood on the wrong side of the war, and despite his family’s last minute change of heart, the sins that they had committed for so long before had cast its great shadow. His family’s name had been embedded in the dark arts for far too long that the wizarding world still held its doubts about the motives of their sudden change. Nevertheless, that change had been crucial in securing a future for his family. It had kept him and his father out of Azkaban, and for that, Draco was eternally grateful to Potter.

His possessions had already been packed, and had been safely transported to the small townhouse in Kensington that he had acquired recently. His manner and usually formal attire would not seem out of place in the posh neighbourhood, but it was a well known location in the Muggle world, which was his challenge to himself.

Changes began with small steps, and whilst this was a rather big one, Draco felt it in his bones: this was his new beginning.


End file.
